


Once and For All

by MaxWrite



Category: British Actor RPF, Harry Potter RPF
Genre: M/M, POV First Person, RPF, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-09-20
Updated: 2006-09-20
Packaged: 2017-10-24 18:43:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/266653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaxWrite/pseuds/MaxWrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They've done it before, played with the idea, but they're older now and play time is over and there are feelings at stake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Once and For All

“Cut! Cut it!”

My head fell back onto the floor. James sort of relaxed a bit on top of me for a second, his hand resting lightly on my shoulder. Our eyes locked, and I could tell he knew that I had felt it. The look in his eyes, underneath all that fake, white hair, was unmistakable.

He slid quickly off me as Mr. Newell approached.

“Okay, who wants to fight me?”

Er … what?

“Come on, which one of you?”

There was a light smattering of giggles all around us. James was now sitting up. He glanced uncertainly at me and the eyes told me everything I needed to know to make my decision.

“I’ll do it,” I said, raising my hand, staring up at Mike, who, from my vantage point, was quite tall and quite upside down.

“Excellent,” he said, rubbing his hands together and walking round to my feet. James scampered away, went and stood just off to the side and watched.

It hadn’t taken much. That brief little moment of contact between James’s crotch and my thigh had been enough. My body had responded in kind, and it wasn’t even that I’d been mentally aroused by my brother’s erection. Sex was the furthest thing from my mind right then. It’s just, well, when one of us gets aroused, it’s difficult for the other one not to as well. I don’t know if it’s biological or psychological, but … oh, forget it. Let’s just say it’s a twin thing and leave it at that.

Anyway, Mike was about to pounce on me, so I readied myself. I was certain I’d be able to hide my current state from him. How difficult could it be?

Pretty damn difficult, turns out. The first thing he did was pull me on top of him. My hard-on smushed right into his belly. I still had hope, though, as we tangled across the floor together. Perhaps he hadn’t noticed.

He finally stopped, but I don’t think he was planning to. Lying on top of my person, he halted abruptly, winced and grabbed his side.

Oh, shite. I broke the director.

He looked down at me and asked, “You all right?”

“Y-yeah, I’m fine. You, erm -”

“Seem to have pulled something, yes. Can’t say it wasn’t worth it, though.”

I blinked at him, wondering what the hell that meant.

Well, seeing as he was still breathing, my new concern became the fact that he was situated squarely between my legs, my little problem pressing right into him. He finally hauled himself up, gallantly stepped aside and bowed to James, gesturing at me as though I was a chair he’d just pulled out for James to sit on. James rejoined me on the floor, leaned in to whisper, “I don’t know if I can do that.”

“It’s okay. I’ll lead.”

We performed much better after that. The final time Mike yelled ‘cut,’ I had James pinned. His large eyes were speaking volumes to me just then. He was clutching my arms as though I was a life preserver, breathing hard and didn’t seem to want to get up or let go just yet. Beneath the snow white hair glued to his face, I could see he’d turned bright pink.

In fairness, I was winded and probably flushed as well. But his eyes …

He was pretty quiet for the rest of the day. I would’ve figured it was just one of his moods, but he couldn’t seem to look at me. I left him alone. He’d start talking when he was ready.

But in the meantime …

“Oliver!”

I spun round to see Mike limping down the hall toward me. I winced on his behalf as I watched and hurried forth to shorten his journey toward me.

“Oliver, I’m glad I caught you.”

“Are you sure you’re all right?”

“I’m still alive. You’re stronger than you look, aren’t you?” He gave me a playful punch in the arm.

“I am so sorry, sir.”

“Oh, stop being so serious. It wasn’t really anything you did. I was a mite … overzealous.”

I nodded, but I still felt guilty.

“Anyway, I wanted to tell you and James that you did marvelously today.”

I smiled sheepishly. “No, we didn’t.”

“Of course you did.”

“You’re very kind, but we were horrible until you showed us how.”

He chuckled. “It wasn’t horrible. It was rather cute, actually.”

“Er … cute?”

“Yes. You two never learned to play fight properly. I find that fascinating.” He stepped closer, his eyes twinkling. “You’re both so … gentle and soft spoken.”

His gaze might’ve been soft, but it was still an intense stare.

“I-I know, sir,” I stuttered. “We’ve always been like this.”

“Don’t sound so apologetic. It’s not a bad thing. It’s very cute. Very sweet.”

“Oh. Thank you. Um, sir? What did you mean earlier when you said ‘Can’t say it wasn’t worth it’?”

“Hm?” He frowned confusedly.

“When you hurt yourself while wrestling with me.”

“Oh! Well, you know what a perfectionist I am. It’s always worth it to get things just as exactly right as possible.”

“Oh. Of course. I just … nothing.”

He watched me for a moment in silence, then asked, “Where’s James?”

“Oh, he’s hiding in our trailer, I think.”

“Ah. Well, you tell him what I said, okay?” He reached up and gently gripped my upper arm, all the while staring into my eyes.

“Oh. Sure.”

“Great. See you tomorrow then?”

“Yeah. See you.”

“Excellent. And again, you did an amazing job today. Really.” He gave my arm an affectionate squeeze.

“Thank you, sir.”

He winked at me, disengaged, turned and hobbled away. I stood there and watched him go. I should’ve turned away sooner, because he turned back suddenly, and he must’ve realised I’d been standing there watching him. I tried to look as though I hadn’t been, but I couldn’t have been very convincing.

“Oh, Oliver?”

I turned back awkwardly. “Hm?”

“Any particular reason you volunteered today?”

“Er, no. Why?”

“You’re normally the stand-back-and-observe type … Just wondering.” And he went on his way again.

My mind was racing as I walked away. Mike thought it odd that I’d volunteered instead of James. Well, he was right, actually. That was precisely the sort of thing James would’ve jumped to do. But all of Mike’s extra attention unnerved James a bit, so I’m not sure he would’ve volunteered even if he hadn’t been … in the state he’d been in at the time.

Then something else occurred to me: if Mike had felt my erection … oh, dear, had he thought it was because of him? And if he didn’t think it was because of him, then he must’ve known it was because of James. Well, yes, it was because of James, but not in _that_ way.

I frowned. It was a mess inside my head. I just wanted to get my brother and get out of there.

 

* * *

James was quiet all the way back to the hotel. I let him be, let him retreat to his room, and I went to mine. Robert called, asked if we were free for dinner. I didn’t think James was up for it, and frankly neither was I. But I told him to call James and ask. Neither one called me back, so I guessed the answer was ‘no’.

I was all settled into bed when James knocked on my door. I threw on a t-shirt and let him in. He was barefoot and in pyjamas as well.

“Couldn’t sleep?” I asked, stepping aside.

“No.” He entered and I closed the door. I hurried past him to turn on the lamp. “Did I wake you?”

“It’s all right. I’m glad you’re talking to me. Had me a little worried there.”

“Oh, it wasn’t you. It was … something. I dunno. Do you mind if I hang out for a while?”

“No, course not.”

“Thanks,” he replied gratefully and settled into a chair in a corner, facing my bed. “You can get back in bed if you like.”

I shrugged and got into my bed, pulling the covers over my legs and remaining sitting up, watching him, wondering what was on his mind. He said nothing for a while and neither did I. That bothered me. I began to wonder when this awkwardness had descended upon our relationship.

“You know,” I said, “we used to lie in bed together all the time.”

He glanced at my rumpled sheets with an uncertain smile and I could see the wistfulness in his eyes as he, too, remembered how close we’d been as kids. He finally stood and came over, climbing into the bed with me, a nervous grin on his face. I turned off the lamp and lay down facing him, prompting him to lie down as well. I could see him well enough by the moonlight from my window.

“So, what’s the matter? Your moodiness have anything to do with the scene we shot today?”

“Yeah. Doesn’t that scene seem a bit odd to you?”

“How so?”

“Well, the fighting; there doesn’t seem to be much reason for it. Nothing really explains it, you know?”

I knew what he meant. The fight scene did seem to be a bit out of left field.

“And ‘Fred’ and ‘George’ wouldn’t do that, anyway. Would they? I mean, did I miss something in all the _Potter_ books we’ve read?”

“No, you’re right. It doesn’t really make sense.”

“So … why’s it in there?”

“Because Mike wants us to wrestle each other.”

He frowned suspiciously. “Why?”

“You know why.”

“Say it. I want to be sure. I want to know I’m not crazy.”

“You’re not crazy. He wants us to wrestle each other because we’re twins and it’s kinky.”

“Him, too, huh?” he said wearily.

“Him, too, what?”

“With the twincest thing.”

I sighed. “Well …”

“He likes blokes, doesn’t he? Young ones.”

“I don’t know. Maybe. And just ‘cause he knows what people want to see, doesn’t mean he wants to see it himself.”

“You think people want to see us … Of course they do, what am I saying? Sorry. I’ll just never get used to the idea of us being … being …”

“Sex symbols?”

“Right. That.”

“It is weird.”

“It’s completely bizarre.”

“So, is that what’s bothering you? The fact people want to watch us paw at each other?”

“They don’t just want to watch us paw at each other. They want to watch us … you know. And I’m not so sure Mike doesn’t want to watch that, too. I get a certain _vibe_ from him. The way he looks at us sometimes …”

I smiled. “You think Mike’s got a crush on us?”

“Is that so hard to believe?”

“A little, yeah.” But, of course, I knew he had a point.

“I never dreamed that any director would actually use the twincest angle.”

“Can’t blame him, really. I mean, it is tempting.”

“What’s that mean?” He suddenly sounded defensive.

“Nothing. It’s just, we’re getting older, you know, we’re technically adults now, so using us that way has become an option. Even though _Potter_ is a children’s series, well, the children are growing up, too.”

He was quiet for a while after that. He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling for several minutes.

“What was it like,” he asked, “wrestling with him?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, was it weird? Did he – I dunno – grab anything?”

My eyebrows shot up. “You’re asking if he copped a feel?”

“No! … Well …”

“He’s a professional, James. He wouldn’t do that.”

“Did you get the impression he wanted to?”

I thought about my conversation with Mike at the studio that evening, the way he’d gripped my arm and stood so close.

“I dunno. He’s a friendly guy.” I frowned, suddenly concerned. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason. Just that vibe he gives off whenever he’s near us.”

“Humph. And how do you feel about that vibe?”

“I don’t know. He’s like a less uptight, more fun version of Dad, you know?”

I laughed a bit at that. “Yeah, he is.”

“Right. So, it should be wrong to … to enjoy that sort of attention from him, shouldn’t it?”

“He isn’t dad. It’s not the same. You don’t want Dad to look at us that way, do you?”

“No! God!”

“Well, then? Don’t worry about it.”

“It’s not that simple.”

I didn’t ask what that meant. Figured he’d tell me if he wanted. He didn’t.

“Thanks for volunteering today.”

“Forget it.”

“I would’ve done it, I just … wasn’t feeling well.”

“You don’t have to be embarrassed. You had a hard-on and didn’t want him to know.”

“Yeah,” he admitted sheepishly.

“It’s okay. We shouldn’t feel weird about things like that. We should be able to talk about that stuff with each other.”

“I know.”

“So, what’s the matter, Jamie? You didn’t used to be this weird around me. Did I do something wrong?”

He sighed. And when he spoke, his voice sounded pained. “I don’t know why that happened with you today, while we were rolling around together. I mean, I _think_ I don’t know.”

“What’s that mean?”

“I just … I’m not sure.”

“James,” I pushed up onto an elbow, reached back to turn on the lamp, then looked at him, examined his face. His eyebrows were knitted together. “You _think_ you don’t know? Well, that part of you that thinks it doesn’t know, what exactly does it think?”

His eyes were like little brown pools of confusion. He bit his lip.

“Did you get hard because of me?” I asked pointblank.

The look on his face only got worse, and a tiny whimper escaped him. His eyes darted over to my face, lingered on my eyes for a good two or three seconds, then went back to boring holes in the ceiling.

“Because of the friction, right? A warm body so close, pressing into you. It was exciting, in a way.”

Another, even more anguished, little whimper issued from him. My heart began to pound rather loudly in my ears.

“What are you trying to tell me, James? Look at me.”

His wide eyes turned on me again. He swallowed. “It may have been friction,” he mumbled. “Maybe. But … I felt … something else.”

“You can tell me what it was. It’s okay.”

He muttered something I didn’t quite catch.

“I didn’t hear you.”

“I said you know what I mean!” he snapped. “Don’t make me say it, okay?”

“James, it doesn’t mean anything. I got hard, too.”

He blinked at me in surprise. “Y-you did?”

“Yeah. When I felt your erection, my body reacted. But it was an almost automatic response, it doesn’t mean I’m horny for you.”

“Yeah, well, I’m sure it doesn’t mean that for you. But me -”

“James,” I said sternly, interrupting him. “You do not want to have sex with me. Okay? You’re a little confused, is all. We’re very close, you and I, we’ve shared things most other siblings never do. Sometimes an intense emotional bond can be mistaken for -”

“Oh, spare me the lecture,” he grumbled, looking away again and crossing his arms over his chest.

“I’m just trying to clear things up. You love me and feel closer to me than to anyone else. We hug, we have no problem touching. It can seem … a little sexual at times.”

He didn’t look convinced. But at least he didn’t look quite so tortured anymore. “I know what I feel,” he replied.

“Oh? And what’s that?”

“Ol -”

“No, I want to hear it. Maybe if you say it out loud you’ll realise how utterly ridiculous it sounds.”

“Oh, fine!” He sat up straight, and so did I. “I want you to be my first.”

“Your first what?” I asked stupidly. He rolled his eyes at my slowness, and I finally caught on. I looked away. “My god, James -”

“No, you wanted to hear it, well, here it is. I cannot imagine my first time being with anyone else.”

“That’s because of exactly what I’ve already said. We are the most important people in the world to each other right now. At this moment, there just isn’t anyone who measures up. As soon as you meet someone else who -”

“I can’t imagine any other relationship coming close to this one, can you? Honestly, can you?”

“I, well … I dunno.”

He shook his head. “You know things about me I couldn’t possibly tell anyone else. We share everything, and, well, quite frankly, our relationship is already very physical. I don’t think sex would be that big a change.”

“James, I cannot even tell you how many things are wrong with that statement.”

“We’ve done stuff before.”

“Not that much!”

“Sex is supposed to be this amazing experience that two people who feel connected share together. Who’s more connected than us? I know when you’re upset, I know when you’re hurt, I know when you’re excited, even before you say anything, even before I see your face. I can _feel_ you, Oliver. Literally. Sometimes, if I let my mind go blank, I can hear snippets of your thoughts. I’ve even seen your dreams. When we’re both asleep, you know? Sometimes I can’t tell who’s dreaming what, it’s like my unconscious melds with yours for a few hours every night when we’re at our most relaxed. And that makes perfect sense! I think if you would just relax and let go you’d see how right this is. I think our first sexual experiences are supposed to be with each other.”

I looked away again. He turned my face right back, cupped it, held it steady, his gaze now direct and sure. “We explore and experience the world together. Being together eases the anxiety of new things. Why should sex be any different? Why shouldn’t we help guide each other through that, too?”

I snorted. “’Cause that would be like the blind leading the blind.”

He giggled at that and caressed my face with his fingers. “So what? So what if we stumble at first? We’ll be together. Our bodies are as similar as two bodies can get. If I’m to let someone else touch me, be sexual with me for the first time – oh, Ollie.” He canted his head, his eyes softening, smiling at me. “Who better to play with my body than you?”

Those words, spoken so softly, so honestly and earnestly, with so much love, sent a chill right through me, straight to my crotch. He smiled knowingly.

“I felt that,” he whispered. “I felt your body react just now.”

Our faces were much closer now than when we’d started, almost nose-to-nose, and I couldn’t remember how they’d gotten that way.

“You said you got hard on set today because you felt my erection. You’re right, Ol, that was completely automatic, a reflex reaction. It makes perfect sense, because we’re connected.” His hands left my face, traveled down to rest on top of my hands. “We belong to each other. Only to each other. And we have every right to touch that which belongs to us, don’t we?”

His breath was hot on my face and mingled with my own inside my mouth. God, I could practically taste him. _I could kiss him right now,_ I thought. _I could just close my eyes and just … let it happen. And no one would know. We could kiss and touch and make each other come right here, right now, and no one would ever know. He’s offering himself to me, why can’t I just …_

 _Stop that!_ I demanded. “James,” I said aloud, leaning away from him, “listen, I -”

“It’s okay. I didn’t really expect you to throw me down and rip my clothes off.”

“But you want me to.”

“Well, yeah … Do you want me to go?”

“No, no, it’s okay. You can sleep here, if you want.”

He gave me a sweet little smile, then lay down and made himself comfy. I switched off the lamp again and lay facing him.

“You feel better, yeah?” I asked.

“Very much, thank you.”

I wished I could say the same for myself. “Good. Well, er, g’night.”

“G’night, Ollie. I love you.”

I grinned. “I love you, too. Ya nutter.”

He giggled at that.

I suddenly remembered I was still wearing my t-shirt. I normally preferred to sleep shirtless. I decided I’d leave it on, just for the night while James was there. After the talk we’d just had, I didn’t want to give him the wrong idea.

As if he’d read my mind, he sat up suddenly and took off his own shirt. He tossed it aside, and when he snuggled back beneath the covers, he turned his back to me and nestled right back against me. His bottom pressed right into my erection.

I shifted uncomfortably, unsure what to do. If I moved away, I might hurt his feelings. If I stayed put, I might give him the wrong impression.

“It’s okay,” he whispered over my shoulder. “I’m hard for you, too.”

Hard _for_ me? Oh, James.

“I don’t expect anything to happen, we can just sleep. I’d just … like to stay close to you, that’s all.”

Okay. I can do that. I sort of wanted to do that, actually. It did feel nice. I stayed where I was, cock pressed against his arse. I didn’t know what to do with my hand, though. My arm was sort of resting along my side, and it wasn't comfortable there. I wanted to move it in front of me, but then it would be touching him, and perhaps _that_ would give him the wrong idea.

 _He’s not expecting anything, he just said so,_ I thought. I placed my hand on his back. He shifted a bit. I moved my hand down to his waist, let it rest rather comfortably there. He didn’t move. I closed my eyes.

 

* * *

In the morning, I found we’d switched positions. I could feel his mouth against the back of my neck, his breath moistening my skin. His arm was draped over me and had found its way up underneath my shirt. It didn’t strike me as odd at first. In fact, if felt perfectly natural. I was quite content lying there with him, listening to him breathe, the warmth of his body against me, the pressure of his arm on top of me. It was the most natural thing in the world for me to reach up under my shirt and interlock my fingers with his.

He sighed, shifted, snuggled closer, turned his face toward the ceiling so his cheek was mashed into me. I sighed, too, and squeezed his hand.

Then my eyes popped open.

“James?”

Unintelligible grumbling was his response.

“James?”

“Hm?”

“Wake up. We should start getting ready now.”

“The alarm hasn’t gone off yet.”

“Yes, well …”

As if cued up specifically to save my hide, the clock radio on the nightstand started beeping. I shut it off and sat up, pulling away from him. I glanced back; he’d rolled onto his back, laid his arm across his forehead. I began poking him in the stomach.

“Come on, Jay, gotta get going.”

He looked over and smiled at me sleepily. He laid a hand on top of mine, pressing it into his belly. “I slept really well last night.”

“Yeah, me, too,” I grudgingly admitted.

He gave my hand a squeeze, then let go and sat up. He yawned impressively and stretched his arms, back and neck. I wondered if I looked that long and elegant when I stretched. Or ever, for that matter. I doubted it. I stood and went to the bathroom, stared sleepily at my reflection. My hair hung limply round my face and in my eyes. I leaned against the countertop, shoulders hunched forward, regarding myself with increasing disdain.

I tore off my shirt and threw it to the floor. I stood up straight and swept my hair back, examined myself. I raised my hands up to my face, brushed the backs of my fingers up along my neck, past my ears, then turned my fingers up and pushed them into my hair, sweeping it up off my neck, tilting my head this way and that, paying close attention to the length and slenderness of my neck and torso. I extended my arms up over my head, my hair falling back down round my neck and face, my long fringe falling into my eyes. I stretched myself out, trying to find the elegance I often saw in my brother.

Nothing. All I saw was gangly gawkiness, all awkward limbs and jutting bones. I lowered my arms, hooked my hands onto the back of my neck, my elbows hanging down before my chest. I exhaled heavily, puffing out my cheeks as I did so.

I thought about Mike, wondered what the hell he could possibly see when he looked at me. Perhaps I was just part of the package. James was the pretty one, and I just sort of came with him. They could try to pretty me up all they wanted, I didn’t think it was working. Had that been disappointment in Mike’s voice when he’d asked why I’d volunteered instead of James?

James came yawning into the bathroom just then. I quickly tried to look busy, grabbed my toothbrush, turned on the water. He went to the toilet, lifted the lid and seat. I tried to ignore what was happening next to me.

“You’re awfully tense this morning,” he observed.

“Are you surprised?”

I saw him shrug out of the corner of my eye. “I dunno. I guess it’s understandable.”

“You were weird around me yesterday.”

“I was, yeah.”

The sound of his urine hitting the water made me clear my throat.

“I’m sorry about that,” he said.

“It’s okay.”

“It’s just my feelings for you -” I coughed again “- all just sort of came to a head, I guess. After shooting that scene with you, rolling around with you in front of everyone; it was kind of exciting, you know? Everyone watching us like that. And I felt sort of proud and happy that … that I have you, and that we’re so close, and that I was getting to touch you like that in front of people. It’s hard to explain.”

“Take your time.”

“Well, you know, having you on top of me has always … excited me.” I swallowed and looked down at the sink. “But you knew that.”

I did know that. Last night certainly wasn’t the first night James and I had cuddled in bed. We’d done it a lot when we were little, and eventually we’d started getting erections while pressed together. We’d rubbed against each other to the point of climax only a couple of times, then silently and guiltily agreed to end it. Well, that had been years ago, and it was always in the backs of our minds, the possibility, the numerous opportunities, the convenience …

 _… the rightness, the comfort, the love …_

The wrestling scene had brought it all back to the forefront.

“Mike wants us to touch,” he went on, giving his dick a little shake and tucking it away. “You can feel it, can’t you? When he’s close to us? When he looks at us?”

I nodded. He flushed and came up behind me, looked at our reflection over my shoulder.

“And a lot of the fans, they want us to. The energy from them can be so intense.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it can.”

“It’s been building inside me for a while now. And yesterday on-set, lying there on my back, you on top of me, both of us breathing hard, hanging onto one another, I just … it was really overwhelming to me, you know?”

“So, that’s what that look in your eyes was.”

He smiled and looked away. “You could see it, eh?”

“Oh, yeah.”

He chuckled and looked at me again. “Well, I’m better now. After our talk last night, and the comfort of sleeping in your arms -” He pressed against me, placed his right hand on my right shoulder and rested his chin there as well “- I feel much better.”

“But you still … I mean, you’re not over it.”

“No. I still think you should be my first.”

“Ah,” I nodded, and it was my turn to look away.

“Makes you uncomfortable. S’why you’re all agitated today.”

“It’s just we’ve never talked about this openly before.”

“It’s okay. I understand. I won’t bring it up again, if you don’t want me to.”

I couldn’t answer. I didn’t know what to say. Not talking about it wouldn’t make it go away. And I felt like a wanker not allowing him to discuss something he felt so strongly about.

Then again, he did seem very much at peace that morning after getting it all off his chest. Perhaps he wouldn’t need to discuss it anymore.

He moved away from me, and I proceeded to brush my teeth, trying very hard to ignore the fact he was disrobing behind me; I could see his reflection in the mirror.

 _Dammit!_ I thought, hating myself for the way I was now staring at my brother’s backside. We used to be able to get naked in front of each other, pee in front of each other, without it being a big deal. Or at least we could ignore the fact we were checking each other out. But now, knowing how he felt about me …

He threw the shower curtain back and bent over to fiddle with the temperature knobs. Then he straightened up and slipped inside, closing the curtain and leaving me semi-alone to exhale in a frustrated fashion.

“Ol?”

“Huh?” I jumped as James poked his head out. He grinned and looked me up and down in a knowing sort of way, as though he was aware of the emotional and hormonal conflict that was raging inside me. “Can I use your razor?”

“Oh. Yeah, sure. It should be in there somewhere.”

“Thanks.”

I finished brushing my teeth and got the hell out of the bathroom.

 

* * *

When I got out of the shower, James was dressed and waiting for me, lounging on the unmade bed, watching television. He’d run back to his room and brought his things over, his shoes and messenger bag were sitting on the floor by the bed. We organised ourselves, me reluctantly deciding I didn’t have time to make the bed, and headed out to meet the car downstairs.

“Hope you don’t mind,” said James as I opened the door for him, “that I stayed over and showered here and everything.”

“Not at all,” I replied honestly, following him out into the hall. “It was nice, actually, having you around while I got ready. Just like at home.”

He smiled warmly and leaned into me, pressing his shoulder against me. I pushed back, smiling shyly. I hazarded a glance up into his eyes. He was wearing that knowing look again, a cute, lopsided grin on his face, his bottom lip help between his teeth. There was something secret in that look, in that grin. Every fort we’d built together, every private thing we’d shared, every discovery about our bodies we’d made, every moment spent in each other’s arms, every stolen glance and touch, every moment spent far away from one another with the discomfort of separation tugging incessantly at us, that feeling of literally being half of a greater thing; it was all there on his face, in his little shoulder nudge, conveyed to me completely and perfectly. I understood. And he knew that I did. No words were needed.

His eyes darted off to the side, and his expression changed abruptly. I turned to look down the corridor. Emma. She’d exited her room just then and was watching us. She smiled awkwardly, gave us a little wave, and went on her way.

“Wait a minute,” whispered James. “Let her go ahead. I don’t want to be on the same lift as her.”

I frowned at him. “Why?”

“She makes me nervous.”

“Why, just ‘cause she’s part of The Golden Trio?”

“Of course not. We’re close to Rupert, after all.”

“Well, what then?”

“I don’t think she likes us.”

“And where do you get that from?” I knew what he meant. Emma was friendly enough, but seemed a bit stiff around us, like she wasn’t quite sure what to make of us. James echoed my thoughts when he replied.

“She’s just not used to …” I tried to explain. “Well, she’s just unaccustomed to …”

“To what?” he challenged.

“To … er … Oh, hell, I don’t know. She must just think we’re weird or something.”

We heard the lift doors open and close round the corner, up the hall. Assuming she was gone, we started walking.

“She saw me go into your room last night,” he said.

“So?”

“So, she just saw me come out, she saw that little nudge I gave you back there, she saw the moment we just had.”

“So what, you think she thinks we’re shagging?”

“Well, I dunno. What else would she think?”

“That we’re twins and, therefore, close?” I pressed the button for the lift. “That sometimes we need to -”

“- sleep in the same bed?”

“Well. Sometimes we do,” I said quietly.

“Yes, but she’s not liable to understand that, not being a twin herself.”

“So, the first thing she’s going to assume is that we’re having sex?” I whispered. “No. Come on, there’s got to be another reason for why she’d be weird around us.”

“I guess. I guess she just doesn’t like us,” he said, pouting.

The lift arrived and we boarded.

“It’s not the end of the world,” I said.

“But _why_ doesn’t she like us?”

“Well, maybe she _has_ picked up on the fact that you’d really like to get in my pants.”

He looked worriedly at me.

“I’m joking, James.”

He smiled despite himself and punched me in the arm.

 

* * *

I was very conscious of Emma from that moment on. I’d always had more important things to focus on than whether or not she paid me any mind or got jumpy when I was around, but that all changed that morning in the hotel hallway.

We descended upon her, swooping down on either side of her in typical, buoyant ‘Fred’ and ‘George’ fashion.

“Oh, yeah?” asked James.

“And why’s that, Granger?” I said.

In a very know-it-all way, she began explaining to us why our aging potion was doomed to fail. Halfway through her spiel, she lost it.

“Sorry,” she said to Mike, her own disappointment in herself written all over her face and in those signature knitted-together eyebrows of hers.

“It’s all right,” he replied. “We’ll do it again.”

James and I took our places, Mike yelled for action, we came sprinting triumphantly into the crowd of cheering students, up onto the benches, pleased as punch, only to have ‘Hermione’ try to burst our collective bubble. Again, we came down on either side of her to challenge her.

And again, she faltered.

“Damn it!” she muttered.

“All right, everyone,” called Mike, “we’ll take a five.” He came over and clapped Emma on the back. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m sorry, I’m not sure what’s wrong today.”

“Just relax. We’ll try it again in a minute. You two!”

James and I jumped to attention.

“Excellent! Keep it up!”

Emma made a face. It was subtle and quick, but I caught it. I approached her.

“Is it us?”

Her face snapped round to look up at me. “What?”

“Is it us, are we bothering you somehow?”

She opened her mouth to answer, then closed it, opened it, then closed it again. She frowned and regarded me as though trying to decide what my real question was.

“All I want to know is, is there anything we can do to help. Or anything we can stop doing? You seem a bit twitchy around us, and not just today.”

“Oh, I am not twitchy around you.” She waved a dismissive hand at me, but a little line remained etched between her brows.

“You are. James thinks you don’t like us.”

We both glanced over at him. He busied himself examining something imaginary on his robes.

“He’s right, isn’t he?”

“No! No, I like you fine.”

“You never talk to us.”

“We haven’t anything in common.”

“How would you know?”

“I’ve known you over four years. I figured it out, hadn’t I?”

“Oh, come on, tell me what it is.”

She canted her head. “Are you begging?”

“I won’t get mad, I promise.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m not going to stop pestering you till you tell me.”

“Oh, all right!” she snapped. Glancing around, she grabbed a handful of my robes and dragged me off to a corner. “You … I find you both …”

“Yes?”

“Disconcerting.”

I arched an eyebrow. “Eh? How’s that then?”

“Don’t get me wrong, you’re both very sweet, but there’s a certain … intensity …” She paused to examine my eyes. “You see? Right there, that’s it.”

“What?”

“The way you’re looking at me.”

“I’m not looking at you any _way.”_

“Well, I’m sure you don’t notice it, but I do. It’s … it’s …”

“It’s what?”

“Intense! It’s like there’s a bloody laser beam on me. I can _feel_ your focus. Now multiply that by two and put each laser beam on either side of me, right up next to my head, and then ask me to concentrate on my lines!” She stopped, took a deep breath.

“So, in short,” I said, “you think we’re creepy.”

“Oh, Oliver, I don’t mean it that way. You’re just such a good listener and such an observer, sometimes you make me feel like I’m under a microscope.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Forget it. To be honest, what creeps me out – I mean, what makes me nervous about James isn’t really the same thing. You’re the observer, and he’s just … I don’t know what he is.”

I snorted while trying to suppress a laugh.

“One minute he’s a bundle of energy, the next he’s quiet and seems completely blank.”

“That’s how he processes information. He has to go quiet. I dunno if you’ve noticed this, but his brain doesn’t always work right while he’s speaking.”

“Well, it’s just bizarre.”

I shrugged. “It’s just James.”

“Yes, well, in this scene, I’ve got you on my left, boring holes in my forehead, and James on my right, whose need to go bouncing off the walls is palpable, and all the while, there’s this … undercurrent of … something.”

“Undercurrent?”

“Yes, there’s this connection between you. Understandable, of course.”

“Wait. This laser-beam focus you mentioned: earlier, you said it’s multiplied by two, but then you said James was different.”

“He is. He shifts back and forth. And when he does focus, invariably he focuses on you. Do you have any idea what it’s like to be in between you two?”

I hazarded a guess: “Intense?”

“Yes! It’s enough to make anyone twitchy.”

“Listen, about what you saw in the hall this morning -”

“Don’t explain. It’s none of my business.”

I frowned at that, wondering what exactly she thought wasn’t her business.

“Mike’s back. We’d better get to our places.” She pushed past me and hurried back to her mark.

“Wait,” I called. “What’s none of your business?”

“Places, people!” Mike called. “Places! From the top!”

 

* * *

I tried to tone down my “intensity” after my chat with Emma. I dunno if I was successful or not, but eventually we all nailed that scene. Emma walked off the set afterward looking utterly drained. It’s a short scene, it shouldn’t have been that taxing, regardless of the multiple takes. But it was for her. Because of us.

“So, what’d she say?” asked James when we were alone in his dressing room.

“Hm?”

“Emma,” he explained, taking a swig from a freshly opened bottle of water. “She dragged you off like she had something important to tell you.”

“Oh, right. Yeah, she thinks we’re shagging.”

He choked on his water.

“Why’re you so shocked? You’re the one who thought she thought that.”

“Yeah, but you’d convinced me I was crazy.”

“I did?” I smiled. “I’ve been trying to convince you of that for years.”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “Ol.”

“Tell me, what did I say this time that was different? I’ll have to write it down.”

“What did she say _exactly?”_

“I dunno, just that we can be a little intense.”

“Well, what does that mean?”

“It’s complicated.” I tried to explain what I’d gotten from the earlier conversation. By the end, he was getting that blank look in his eyes as he tried to figure it all out.

“So, she didn’t actually _say_ she thinks we’re fucking?”

“Well, no. But something she said at the end, something about what she saw this morning …”

“What?”

“That I didn’t have to explain, ‘cause it was none of her business.”

“So, basically … she thinks we’re shagging.”

“Bingo.”

“Huh. So, what do we do?”

“Well, for starters, we keep not having sex with each other.”

He shot me another annoyed look.

“And second, we tone down our obvious connection.”

“And how do we do that?”

“We stop focusing on each other so much.”

He shrugged. “Okay. Easy enough.”

 

* * *

We did a lot of waiting around the rest of the day, and turned out, we weren’t needed again. So, feeling restless, we joined the guys for dinner.

“What’s up with Emma?” asked Robert.

“Thinks we’re creepy,” I replied, scanning the menu.

“Maybe she fancies you,” suggested Rupert.

“I doubt that.”

“Yeah, she’s all about Dan, anyway,” muttered Devon.

“Someone sounds jealous,” snickered James.

“I am not,” snapped Devon. “And yes, you are creepy.”

I noticed Matt lean closer to James. “No, you’re not,” he said softly with a roll of his eyes. James grinned at him.

“I can understand why she feels that way,” I said. “Twins are …”

“Odd,” offered Robert, biting into the celery stick from his Cesar. I glanced at him; he was giving me an interesting little smile as he chewed.

“Er, yeah, sort of,” I said. “Which is basically what she said. So, I – oh, thank you -” Rob had begun refilling my wine glass “- I said we’d try to be less, erm, twinny around her. If that makes sense.”

“I wouldn’t worry about her,” said Rupert casually, closing his menu and sitting back in his chair. “There are very few people she clicks with.”

“And you’re one of them,” Devon pointed out.

“Yeah, well, don’t ask me to explain that.”

Their voices faded into the background as I watched James and Matt. Matt had always liked James quite a bit. During the _Prisoner of Azkaban_ premiere in New York, the one I hadn’t been able to attend, Matt had been James’s saving grace. We’d never been that far apart before, and we were both experiencing some severe anxiety over it. James called me constantly and told me how excellent Matt was in the role of surrogate brother, said Matt was very patient with all of his clinging. I’d been quite touched that Matt would put up with that, would be there for my brother like that, and I’d thanked him for it.

Now, staring at the pair of them conversing quietly, leaning toward each other, a pang of jealousy began to gnaw at my chest cavity. They looked awfully cozy and conspiratorial. James was mine to be secretive with, no one else’s. And there were other people at the bloody table! It was just plain rude of them, whispering to each other like that.

I glared at Matt.

“Ol?”

My face snapped around, back to Robert. “Hm?”

“Sorry. Just looked like you went away for a bit there.”

“Oh, erm, sorry. I was just -”

“Watching James.”

I felt my face grow hot as he smiled his charming smile.

“It’s okay. It’s cute that you watch out for him. Really sweet.”

“Yeah, but how much trouble could he get into sitting across the table, talking to Matt?”

“Not much, granted, but I imagine you can’t help it. You’re his big brother. You are the eldest, aren’t you?”

“Just barely.”

He glanced over at James, watched him thoughtfully for a moment. “He does seem a bit naïve at times. I hope I’m not being insulting. I think it’s rather cute.”

“No, it’s okay. You’re right, he is … er, a bit naïve sometimes, not cute. Not that he’s not cute. Not that he is. Erm … yeah.”

Robert chuckled at my stammering. I looked embarrassedly away from him, back at James, and I couldn’t help but smile. I got a bit lost again, didn’t notice that Robert was watching me again.

“He’s like your baby, isn’t he?”

I looked around at him. “Huh?”

“James. He’s more than your little brother, he’s your responsibility, you watch over him. He’s your baby.”

My stomach dropped. Robert hadn’t known us very long, and he could see it, the strength and nature of our bond. Emma was right: James and I were about as subtle as a sledge hammer.

“If you want to put it that way,” I said, laughing nervously.

“Drink up. You’re tense.”

I reached for my wine glass. “I’m always tense, Rob.”

Interesting phenomenon: my glass kept on refilling when I wasn’t looking. I don’t remember half the things we talked about, but I was chatty as hell that night.

We went back to the hotel after dinner. Everyone disbanded, heading back to their rooms. James gave me a tiny little shoulder nudge, then strolled down the hall back to his suite … with Matt in tow.

“Do they look a little cozy to you?” I asked as Robert and I approached my door.

“Kinda, yeah. Why? Are you interested in Matthew?”

“What?” I asked as though that was the most ridiculous thing in the world. “No, of course not! I mean, he’s nice and all, but …” I frowned at him. “I … do you … think I’m …”

He leaned against the wall, hands in his pockets, looking as cool and at home in the brightly lit, sterile hotel hallway as he would’ve sitting in a cushy armchair. He shrugged, knowing exactly what I’d been about to ask. “I get a vibe off you. And your brother, actually.”

“Y-you do?”

“Yep. Why? Are you straight?”

I opened my mouth to answer. Then closed it.

“Not sure yet?” he said with a grin.

“Well, er … That should be an easy question to answer, shouldn’t it?”

“Not necessarily. Relax, no pressure. It’s just, you know, if you ever think you need some assistance figuring things out …”

I blinked at him stupidly for a few seconds, not understanding what he was saying. It dawned on me slowly. “Oh, er … Oh! Robert, I -”

“Hey, like I said, no pressure,” he said softly. He moved closer. “I like you. I don’t wanna freak you out or anything.”

“You like me? You mean _like_ like?”

He laughed a little at that, moved even closer, and when his eyes met mine again, they were just as warm, just as friendly, but somehow more serious. I gulped, suddenly feeling even more unsteady than I had a moment ago. I wobbled a bit and reached up to touch the wall for balance.

“Yes, I mean _like_ like,” he chuckled. “You’re awfully cute.”

Blood was rushing past my ears, my heart was pounding in my chest, he was standing too close. He smelled of wine and just plain manliness. Just what I needed; as though I wasn’t intoxicated enough. He must’ve taken my quickening breath as a sign that I wanted him to make a move, and I guess I sort of did. I certainly didn’t pull away. Not immediately.

It was nice. He was gentle and patient. But there was still that undercurrent of need, of pure lust that was pulling me down, sucking me in. I almost let it. Without even thinking about it, I brought my hands up to grab onto his shoulders, the wetness and fullness and foreignness of his tongue in my mouth awakening something inside me, the thing that, had I let it, would’ve invited him in, would’ve let him have me. His hands touched my waist. That felt so good.

But then a sudden fear pierced through the alcohol haze and rather unpleasantly reminded me where we were standing. I pulled away, took a step back, covered my mouth with my hand.

“I’m sorry,” he said, concerned. “I didn’t mean to be presumptuous.”

“No, it’s all right, I’m fine. I’m just … worried.” I glanced up and down the hall. “What if someone saw?”

“We’re alone. No one saw.”

“But someone _could_ have. D’you have any idea how much trouble we would be in? God, that was so stupid!”

“Calm down,” he said gently. “We’re both a bit drunk, we weren’t thinking clearly.”

I had a feeling that he’d been thinking a lot more clearly than I and had known exactly what was happening. My glass hadn’t been refilling on its own, after all. I wasn’t angry at him, though. The moment had been just perfect, with him leaning in like that. And me letting him …

I took a deep breath, relaxed somewhat. “Thank you,” I said.

“For what?”

“For the kiss. It was nice. Thank you.”

His charming smile returned. “Forget it. You’re an excellent kisser, you know.”

“Oh, no I’m …” I rethought my self-deprecation. I know how annoying that can be at times, decided to simply accept the compliment, whether I believed it or not. “Thank you. Erm, I’d love to have you come in. But …”

“It’s all right.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to. I do. But, well, I sort of belong to someone else.” The words were out before I could stop them, before I’d even realised what I really meant by them. I wonder if he noticed the slight look of confusion that briefly crossed my face just then.

He nodded. “I understand.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“No, you can’t possibly. I don’t even understand.”

“Ol, trust me, you don’t need to explain.”

I decided not to argue anymore.

“I had a nice night. You’re a fun drunk, you know that?”

I smiled shyly.

“It might interest you to know that Matt just came out of James’s room.”

“What?” I glanced back, and sure enough, saw Matthew walking down the corridor alone, away from us. “Oh. Well, like I said, I’m not interested in him that way.”

“I know,” he said, beginning to walk away. “But James is alone now. G’night. See you on set tomorrow.” He winked at me, pulled a toothpick from his pocket and began chewing it as he strolled away.

I tried not to think about what he’d meant by that, by telling me James was alone. I watched him for a moment, then pulled out my keycard, swiped it and entered my room. I flipped on the light, half expecting to find James curled up in my bed, right in the middle as though he owned it. My room was empty and quiet. Too quiet, the only evidence that James had ever been there having been efficiently removed by hotel staff; my bed was now perfectly made.

I got ready for bed, got under the covers and stared at the ceiling, listening to the empty sound of my suite. I rolled onto my side and extended my arm over the unoccupied space on the other side of my bed. I was alone, I could sleep in the center, if I wanted. I tried that. It felt weird.

In fact, it’d always felt weird. I suddenly realised that I slept on one side of my bed at home as well. I could begin the night in the center, but sure enough, I'd wake up hours later all curled up to the side, as though I knew subconsciously something or someone was supposed to be next to me. Having James there with me the night before had made me acutely aware of not having him there with me right then, and, therefore, acutely aware of the big empty space off to my right.

He smiled a big, welcoming smile when he opened his room door and found me standing in the hall. I hoped I didn’t look as bashful as I felt. He brought me in, locked the door, turned and embraced me. This caught me by surprise, but I melted against him quite easily.

“I wanted to come down,” he whispered, “but I didn’t want to impose again.”

“You didn’t impose before.”

“And, well, Robert …”

Oh. “Was it that obvious he was hitting on me?”

“To everyone, but you.”

We loosened our grip on each other and looked at each other in the dim moonlight.

“He kissed me.”

His jaw dropped. “Really? What was it like?”

“It was nice. But I sent him on his way. I just couldn’t, you know, do anything with him.”

“How come?”

I looked at him from underneath my eyelashes, hoping he would understand everything from just that one little look. “I dunno,” I mumbled.

“And now here you are,” he said, still clutching my arms.

“Yeah. Hope you don’t mind.”

He didn’t say anything. He took my hand and led me to the bed. I crawled in and slid over, turned toward him as he got in, too. He wriggled closer to me until our knees touched and I could feel the heat from his body.

“Still drunk?” he asked.

“Just a bit, not much. I was lonely by myself.”

“Me, too.” He wriggled even closer, and we had to unbend our legs. His hand came up to touch my arm.

“What about Matthew?” I asked. “Didn't want him to stay longer?”

“Nah, we were both tired. I'd rather be with you, anyway.”

I, to my great surprise, reached up and pressed my palm to his chest. My hand slid upward to his neck, rubbed gently there for a moment, then continued on up to his face, where my thumb caressed his cheek and mouth. I felt his hand on my waist. And if Robert’s hands on my waist had felt right earlier, it was nothing compared to this. My body reacted without asking permission first, my leg sliding forward to rest on top of his.

His hand went underneath my shirt, made soft little circles against my skin, then moved down, overtop of my thin cotton pants, along my thigh. I raised my knee into the air, spreading my legs, rolling back a bit, presenting my body to him. His hand promptly found the hardness between my legs, gripped and stroked it.

We were staring at each other the whole time. Only when he had launched himself up onto me, gently nudging me onto my back, settling down on top of me, between my legs and bringing our lips together did his eyes close. Mine did, too, fluttering shut, rolling up into my head behind the lids as his tongue came probing and he began to grind against me. Those feverish nights alone in our bedroom came rushing back, rubbing against each other, panting, inhaling each other, our scents intensified by heat and lust, spurring us on. Everything about it had felt right, the touch of his skin, the smell of him, the taste of his mouth, the sound of his moans, and all I’d wanted then was to do anything and everything possible to get him to make more of those noises, get him to come harder than he ever had in his short life. All I’d wanted was to explode all over him, covering him in me, in my scent, in my love.

And God help me, that was all I wanted right then, too.

I spread my legs wide and held onto his waist, sucking his tongue as he dry humped me, causing the bed to shake, concentrating on the movement of his body, the rolling and rocking of his slender hips. My hands ventured down onto his bottom, cupping the perfect globes, hanging on, kneading them with my fingertips.

He broke the kiss and looked down at me. “Did you want him to fuck you?” he asked, his voice shaky and low. He meant Robert, of course. “Did you wanna invite him in? Did you wanna let him have you tonight?”

“Yes,” I whispered. I couldn’t lie to him.

“Mm, I like that you wanted it.” He braced himself against the mattress and rubbed harder. “I like that you wanted to get fucked.”

Something about the way he said ‘fucked’, the way he emphasised it, whispered it almost harshly, punctuating it with a nice, hard thrust, a hot puff of his breath hitting my face; it made me so hot, sent an orgasmic wave right through me, made me push up against him that much harder.

“Why didn’t you let him in?” he asked.

“Because …”

“Tell me.”

“Because … because of you. Because I belong to you.” There. I’d said it. And it felt so fucking good. I let out a rather loud groan, threw my head back and pushed against him even harder.

He sucked a breath in through his teeth when I said that, and dove for my neck, latching on and sucking at the hollow above my collarbone. That sent me right into orbit. I was being awfully loud, but I didn’t care just then. I was grabbing and pulling at his shirt, not giving a damn if I ripped it. I arched my neck and tilted my head away from him, letting him suck and lick at me, giving myself to him, showing him he had me fully, completely.

And when I came, I was certain others in the hotel could hear me. I think I cried out his name, but I can’t quite remember. It may have been just incoherent groaning. And my body was completely out of my control then, bucking and arching, hands gripping and clawing, and the only things I was aware of, other than my own pleasure, were the sound and feel of him coming against me, the way his body shuddered, the grunts and panting and moaning coming from him. And then it all died away, slowly dissipating, nothing left but hot breath and sweat and musk and a very noticeable wetness between us.

Eventually, he pushed up and looked down at me. I opened my eyes, wondering what I’d see in his. He gave me a weak smile.

“Hey,” he said timidly.

A familiar guilt was growing inside me. He could see it in my eyes.

“No, no,” he said quickly. “None of that.” He caressed my face. “There’s no one here to shame us or punish us.”

“What if somebody heard?”

“They won’t know who it was.”

“We could get caught, James,” I whispered.

“Shhh. Come here.” He kicked the covers off us and sat up. He took hold of my pyjama pants and underwear and pulled them off me, moving down to the foot of the bed at the same time. He got them off me and stood up, dropped them to the floor. He removed his pyjamas and underwear, too. I sat up and took my shirt off.

We were naked together for the first time in ages. We quickly cleaned ourselves up with tissues, then he got back in bed, pulled the covers up over us and took me in his arms. The initial contact, our naked bodies coming together, bare skin on bare skin, was as exciting as anything else we’d just done. I snuggled into him, sighed contentedly against his neck. I lay there for quite some time, enjoying the closeness, enjoying him, slowly drifting off, wrapped in safety and love and warmth, and things couldn't have felt more perfect than they did right then.

 

* * *

We awoke just before the alarm went off. He was fully awake before I was and helped me wake up by planting little kisses all over my face.

“Wakey, wakey,” he said huskily. He rolled halfway on top of me and began rubbing against my thigh as he nuzzled my neck. I felt the cool tickle of a droplet of pre-come touching my thigh. I opened my eyes, but didn’t move as he continued to cuddle and kiss me.

“We shouldn’t have done that last night,” I said. He stopped, raised his head, propped it up on his hand and stared at me. I didn’t look at him. I didn’t want to see the look on his face.

“And why not?” he asked calmly.

“Because it’s wrong, you know that.” I tried to sit up. He placed a hand firmly on my chest to stop me. I finally looked at him.

“It isn’t,” he said. _“You_ know _that.”_

I sighed, letting my head fall back onto the pillow. “James, please don’t -”

“No, you please don’t. I can excuse this kind of behaviour at age twelve, but not now. Don’t do this, don’t fuck with my head like this.”

“You’re the one who came to me the night before and said you wanted me to be your first. How’s that for fucking with a person’s head?”

“You asked me what my problem was. You wanted to know.”

“I didn’t wanna know _that,_ James.”

“I didn’t hear any complaints last night.”

“I was drunk,” I said simply.

He shook his head. “You felt something last night. You felt what I feel, and you know it, and now you’re freaking out about it.”

“James -”

“Don’t deny it. You _said_ it. You said you belong to me.”

Shite. I had said that, hadn’t I?

“Because you know it’s the truth. S’why you couldn’t do anything with Rob last night. Because you know we’re supposed to fuck each other before anyone else can have us.”

I winced. “James, please, that doesn’t make sense -”

“You wanted it.”

“I – was – drunk,” I said more firmly. “And confused, what with Rob and Matt -”

“Matt? What’s he got to do with anything?”

“Oh, please! It’s so obvious he wants you.”

“Wants me to what?”

“Don’t be stupid, James.”

“He and I bonded last year in New York, that’s all. We’re not interested in each other _that_ way.”

“Coulda fooled me.”

“You’re jealous of Matt? Are you serious?” He sounded very amused. “What, you think I want to do with him the things I do with you? I’m yours, Oliver, I told you that.”

I had no reason to think he wasn’t being truthful. His gaze was steady, eyes locked with mine, as he said those words.

“What if I won’t have you?” I asked.

He sighed and lay down on his back next to me. “If you’re with someone else first, I’ll … I’ll let go, I guess. But you know, in a way, we’ve already made love.”

“And how d’you figure that?”

“We’ve made each other come three times now.”

“By rubbing against each other _fully clothed._ That’s hardly lovemaking.”

“We kiss. And we hold each other afterward. I don’t see how it’s not making love, given how close we are, how we feel about each other. And we’re certainly not fully clothed right now.”

“James, we just shouldn’t, okay? It’s wrong and it complicates things.” Even if he didn’t think it was wrong, he couldn’t deny that it was making things weird between us.

There was silence for a moment, and then, “You weren’t that drunk last night.”

And the clock radio began beeping, frightening me half to death. James shut it off, got gracefully up out of bed, and went to the bathroom. I tried not to watch his slender, naked form move across the room. For a while, I listened to the water running in the shower. Then I got up, got dressed – the wet spot on my pyjamas now dry and crusted – and quietly left the room.

 

* * *

“Cut!” Mike yelled, limping over to us. He leaned a hand against the wall where we stood and regarded us with his face slightly lowered. “What’s the problem, gentlemen?”

“Nothing,” muttered James.

Mike raised his eyebrows. “Oh, really? Something’s drastically different. You were brilliant yesterday. What’s happened?”

“What makes you think something’s happened?” I asked innocently.

“Oliver, I’m a director. Part of my job is to notice subtle differences. And this difference is far from subtle. If I didn’t know otherwise, I’d be tempted to say you two didn’t know each other at all.”

“I’m not following.”

“You’re not tapping into each other. You’re not _feeling_ each other. Normally, there’s some very clear communication going on between you, little things no one else notices or understands. You anticipate and play off each other. Today … it’s like you’re strangers.”

I was about to speak when James cut me off. “We’re trying to tone it down a bit.”

“Why?”

“Our connection scares people.”

Mike smiled. “Who could possibly be afraid of something so lovely?”

“Emma. She thinks we’re creepy.”

“It’s not her fault, sir,” I added quickly. “It’s just that during that one scene when she was between us -”

“Ah,” Mike nodded. “Okay, I see. Well, I’m sure the strength of your bond can be unnerving to certain more sensitive individuals. But Emma’s all the way across the room now.”

We all glanced at her, seated amongst all the other girls in a sea of skirts and knee socks.

“Even if she can feel the fierceness of your bond, she’s not integral to this scene. You two, however, _are._ And to be honest, gentlemen, I think there’s more going on than a little ‘toning down’. Did you have a fight?”

Neither of us answered.

“Uh-huh. I see. Well, spill it. What was the fight about?”

I fidgeted nervously.

“Guys?”

“It’s a delicate subject, sir,” I muttered.

He straightened up, inhaled deeply, turned to the crowd and announced in his booming voice that we were taking a break. He then signaled for us to follow him and began to lead us from the set. The guys all gave us cheeky grins as they watched us pass by. Alfred, Devon and Rupert each made an ‘oooh’ noise, a sound that universally means “you’re in trouble”. Matthew waved at us, his eyes lingering on James.

I glared at Matt.

Mike led us down to James’s dressing room. We filed in, and Mike closed the door.

“Sit,” he ordered. James and I sat side-by-side on the couch, while Mike sat alone in an armchair opposite us. He rubbed his temple with his right hand and began, “All right, tell me what happened.” James and I exchanged a worried glance. Mike stopped rubbing his forehead. “I’m serious. I need to know, so we can fix this immediately. I need you on the ball today, guys.”

“It’s not that simple,” I said. “It’s … personal.”

“Personal as in embarrassing?”

“Well, yes, I suppose.”

“It’s about sex, isn’t it?”

I choked on my own saliva just then and began coughing. Straight away, I felt James’s hand on my back, gently patting and rubbing, trying to soothe me.

“Well, you’re still connected, anyway,” said Mike.

My coughing subsided, and I looked over at James. He cast a furtive little glance at me and took his hand away.

“So, I gather from your oh so subtle reaction, Oliver, that I’m correct; it is about sex.”

I rolled my eyes, sat back and crossed my legs as though to shield my most private parts.

“Is it a girl?” There was more fidgeting and throat clearing from us at that. “I can’t imagine the two of you fighting over someone.”

“We’re not,” said James.

“Okay. So, if it’s about sex, and it’s not about anyone else …”

“My god,” I muttered.

“I'm sorry? What was that?”

“We can’t discuss this with you!” I insisted.

“You know, Oliver,” he said, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, “I’m not a young man. I’m sixty-two years old, did you know that?”

I shrugged in a non-committal sort of way.

“I’ve seen and heard a lot of things, things stranger than you two could possibly throw at me, I'm sure.”

I frowned suspiciously. “What're you getting at?”

He gave me a knowing look. “You two had a lover’s tiff. Am I right?”

I squeezed my eyes shut and turned away from him.

“Oliver, don’t shut down.”

“We are not lov -” I began, then stopped myself and continued in a softer voice. “We are not lovers.”

“Oh? Well, perhaps you should be then.”

I looked back at him in disbelief. “Excuse me?”

To my right, James snickered. I shot him a look.

“We fooled around last night,” said James. “And this morning, he goes all weird on me, like he didn’t want it or something.”

“James, please!” I hissed. He ignored me.

“Didn't even say goodbye when he left my room. Sneaked out while I was in the shower. I should’ve known he would do this again.”

“Again, huh?” said Mike. “You two have a long history of, as you call it, fooling around.”

“Sort of. I just think we’re supposed to be together.”

“Hm-mm, hm-mm. And, Oliver, you don’t?”

“I’m not discussing this,” I said through clenched teeth, refusing to look at him.

“Okay, fine. I can respect that. Let’s not talk about that then. Let’s talk about – oh, I don’t know – the multi-million-dollar film we’re shooting just down the way.”

My shoulders slumped and I suddenly felt very childish and unprofessional. “Sir, we’re really sorry about -”

“Shh, quiet, Ol. I’m talking about the film, about the scene we’re shooting today, about why this is one of the scenes that has been tailored specifically for you and James. I wanted you two ad-libbing together for this scene, because I wanted to capture your natural bond and comfort with each other. I wanted to have you interacting only with each other in at least one scene, because you don’t have the same chemistry with anyone else, and I wanted to show the audience your inherent twinness, the connection that I see everyday. They know the characters you play better than you do, and I thought it was time to show them that you are as connected as ‘Fred’ and ‘George’ are. For this scene, what I want is _your_ words, _your_ ideas, _your_ instincts, everything that comes naturally when you focus on and play off each other. These are things that neither I, nor Mr. Kloves, could possibly hope to create without you. Your bond is important, gentlemen. You’re playing twins, something you know inherently how to be. The last thing you want to do is shut each other out. Not because of some silly argument. And certainly not because Emma thinks you’re weird. Let her worry about her end of things, all right?”

Something swelled inside me as he spoke, something that made my chest feel like it might burst. Despite everything, despite my embarrassment and what I believed was James being stubborn, I think it was pride I was feeling. I looked over at him. He was already watching me, the slightest hint of a smile on his lips and in his eyes. And something else was in his eyes, too, something shining and warm. I think it was pride as well.

“Ahhh,” sighed Mike happily. “Now, _that’s_ what I like to see: twins being twinny and connected and probably a bit telepathic. Which, honestly, _is_ a bit creepy, but in a rather nice way. Now, kiss and make up, you two.” I looked at him in surprise at that, and he laughed out loud. “It’s just an expression, Oliver. Relax.”

“Expression, my arse,” said James. He shifted, moved closer to me, and before I knew what was happening, he was pressed against me, holding my face steady and kissing me firmly. I protested as best I could, but I couldn’t push him away, couldn’t bring myself to be rough enough to achieve that. I relented, let him kiss me. I was finding it rather difficult to think about _not_ letting him, actually. It felt so good, it seemed unnatural to want to stop him.

He pulled back and looked lovingly into my eyes, and I into his. It was my Jamie I saw then, the little boy I’d been watching over all these years, fretting over, whom I’d held and cuddled when we were little, my constant companion, my best friend, the only one who could ever know me completely, the only one I truly trusted. He’d given me so much, and what was he asking of me? Something so simple, so wonderful and beautiful and pleasurable and, yes, something so right. Something I wanted, too.

He was leaning against me, his body molding to mine, one hand on my chest, the other caressing my face, our noses almost touching, and he was looking at me, at every inch of my face, like I was something precious and special and sacred to him. I put my hands on him, held him, whispered, “I’m sorry, Jamie.” His reply was a warm smile and another kiss, this one slower and gentler and deeper, the kind you feel all the way down in your toes.

We heard a little cough. We stopped and looked at Mike.

“Just making sure you remembered I was here,” he said. “But please, don’t let me stop you.”

We straightened ourselves out, sat back in the couch. I found it very difficult to meet Mike’s eyes after that. And he was finding it very difficult to keep the smirk off his face.

“I think you both should pay a visit to make-up for a touch-up. And I’ll see you on set in twenty, all right?” At that he stood and began hobbling toward the door.

“Sir?” I said. He turned back to me. “You’re not going to tell anyone, are you? About what just happened.”

“Of course not. Why would I do a thing like that to you?”

“Well, I, er, had to make sure. Sorry.”

“I understand. If word got out, Warner Bros. would have your hides. Don’t worry, I won’t be telling anybody.” He reached for the door knob, gripped it, then stopped again, looked at us. “I’m glad I could be present for your little reconciliation. One doesn't get many opportunities to see something like that in real life, something genuine like that. It was quite beautiful. Thank you.”

We stared at him, dumbfounded. He was thanking us for snogging in front of him? He finally exited the room, a soft smile on his face.

I turned to James as the door closed.

“Well, we just fulfilled his ultimate fantasy, I think,” he said. Then he looked at me, saw the look on my face and added, “Now, Ol, I know what you’re gonna say.”

“James, you really shouldn’t have done that.”

“Yep,” he sighed. “That sounds about right.”

“I know it’s Mike, and that he’ll be discreet, but -” His mouth on mine shut me right up. But only briefly this time. No, this time, I was able to pull away. “Will you stop doing that?”

“Now, why should I stop,” he said, standing up, “when it works so well? Come on, let’s go fix our faces.”

 

* * *

We had a blast shooting the “Dance Lessons” scene after having “reconnected”, as it were. I was able to let go and react to James quite naturally, and at one point, we ended up doubled over, laughing our arses off, my arm draped across his shoulders.

“That was brilliant!” called Mike. “Now, I want you to do it again, but this time, I want your voices softer, you’re whispering, so lean in closer when you do it, all right? Ready? And … action!”

I leaned in close to James’s ear and caught a whiff of him. I felt my body react and had to mentally will it to stay calm. An erection was the last thing I needed just then. I repeated my line. He turned to me, and his big brown eyes completely gave away his giddiness. He stifled a smile as he parroted the line back at me, but broke out in a huge grin a second later, causing me to smile, too. The giggles weren’t far behind.

“Shut up, Fred,” I said loud enough for the others to hear, “or we'll get detention from McGonagall again.”

“You know, the dunce caps weren’t so bad,” he replied. “But the spankings were a bugger.”

All round the set, shoulders shook with quiet laughter. Mike, with a big smile on his face, just shook his head and yelled ‘cut’ again.

I continued to stare at James when he looked away. He tossed his shiny mane, his entire face still shining with happiness. And when he glanced at me again, he gave me a sweet, secret smile and nudged me with this shoulder.

I wanted to take his hand. I wanted to touch his face and his hair. I wanted to hold him close and cuddle him. The urge was overwhelming, but I held back, clasped my hands before me and began wringing them to keep them from straying somewhere they shouldn’t.

I finally turned away and scanned the room. Emma was watching us. I couldn’t read her face and she immediately looked away. Mike was watching us, too. He was still happy as a clam.

James was mouthing something to the guys seated not far in front of us. He was smiling and absolutely glowing. And right then, as I watched him, once again admiring his beauty, I found I felt neither jealousy of him, nor self-pity for what I felt I lacked. I lacked nothing. I had absolutely everything and it was standing right next to me. He filled in the gaps, completed me. Always had.

 _You’re so pretty,_ I found myself thinking as he tossed his hair again. It caught me completely by surprise. Pretty?

But he was. He was to me.

 

* * *

Mike yelled ‘cut’ for the final time that day. We looked over at him; he was positively beaming. Everyone began milling about, the usual groups gravitating toward each other. Matthew approached James like moth to flame. I tried to keep in mind what James had said about himself and Matt that morning. I let them talk, tried to calm my territorial beast, distracted myself, as we walked, by chatting with Rupert.

Emma glanced at Rupert as she and Dan passed by us. She looked like she wanted to say something to him, but looked up at me and seemed to change her mind.

After changing and taking my make-up off, I strolled over to James’s dressing room to see if he was ready yet. He was sitting on the couch, pulling his trainers on when I walked in.

“Ready?” I asked.

“Just about.” He got up and began retrieving things from around the room. I sat on the arm of the couch and watched him.

“So, that was fun today, eh?” I said. “The adlibbing, I mean.”

“Yeah. You were amazing.”

 _“You_ were. Did you wanna join the guys for dinner tonight?”

“Nah. I think I’d rather stay in with you, actually.”

“Oh.” My mind reeled at what he might mean by that, at what he might want to happen between us that night. “Okay.”

“Why? Did you wanna go out?”

“No, no. I’d rather stay in, too.”

“Cool. We’ll order room service. I love doing that.”

“Yeah … So, I guess we should … get stuff.”

“What stuff?”

“You know. Like … lubricant and all that.”

He stopped trying to fasten his watch strap and looked up at me. My eyes remained on my lap, on my hands which were lying in it, wringing themselves senseless.

“I mean, I guess that’s really all we need, right?”

“Oliver -”

“Neither of us has ever done anything, so I guess we don’t need, um, protection …”

He crossed the room to me, came right up to me and stood between my legs. “Ollie,” he said softly, “you sound so resigned.”

“I do?” And I realised I had actually been mumbling a bit, and with my head lowered, that couldn’t have looked or sounded very enthusiastic. “Oh, well, I’m not, really, I’m just … embarrassed.”

He grinned. “It doesn’t have to happen tonight. We can do other things. Or nothing at all. You’re not supposed to schedule it, you know, it isn’t a root canal.”

I gave a nervous little laugh. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s supposed to happen naturally. We look at each other, and we just sort of … know. You know?”

I shook my head. “No.”

He grinned again. “It doesn’t matter. You will when it’s time.” And he cupped my face, tilted it upward, leaned over and kissed me.

“So,” I said when he pulled back, “is this what we do now? We, er, kiss and touch and stuff when we’re alone? Like ... all the time?”

He took a step back. “Do you not want me to?”

“No, no, it’s not that. I just wanted to know.” He looked relieved and moved in again. “It’s just that brothers don’t generally do that. I mean, I’m sure some mess around on occasion. Like we do. But, well, you’re sort of acting as though we’re more than brothers now.” He seemed to deflate a bit. I quickly added, “Which isn’t bad. It’s just different, I guess. I just …” I sighed. “I’m all confused, James. I mean, you’re acting like we’re _dating_ or something, and now when I look at you, you look … _pretty_ to me.”

He canted his head. “I look ... pretty?”

“Today on set, between takes, I was watching you, and you tossed your hair, and I guess the light was hitting you just right or something, and I looked at you, and … James, you are really fucking pretty.”

He half grinned, half frowned at me. “You mean like a girl?”

“Well, no, not exactly. I mean, you’re sort of … well, I’m not sure exactly.”

“Is it my hair? 'Cause it's long?”

“Kinda, yeah. But I think it’s more your face, really.”

“Is it my eyes?” His voice was growing softer, and things were feeling distinctly more intimate.

“Maybe.”

“Is it my mouth?”

“It’s just everything. James, I shouldn’t think you’re pretty.”

“Why not?”

“It’s not normal. You’re a guy! You’re more than just a guy, you’re my brother! This whole thing is becoming very odd.”

“Too odd for you?” he asked, sounding worried again.

“I dunno. But it’s not like we can stop it now. We can’t go back.”

He lowered his eyes and mumbled, “Would you want to if you could?”

“Well, I dunno … James, are you okay?”

He looked up at me again. “I dunno what’s wrong with me. I mean, I do think that we should learn about certain things together, like sex. It seems perfectly natural to me, but … well …”

“What?” He suddenly looked so torn. I placed my hands on his waist and pulled him even closer, let him lean right against me. His arms rested easily about my neck, his body curving into mine.

“Oliver,” he muttered miserably.

“What is it, Jamie?” I asked, rubbing his lower back.

“I … I don’t just want us to be each other’s firsts.” He stopped there and bit his lip.

“You want us to be lovers,” I guessed. “Not just experimentally, but for real. Like … a couple?”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Stop it,” I said gently. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

“I’ll never want anyone the way I want you. Things will never be as perfect with anyone else as they are with you. We’re perfect together, Ollie. Just like today doing that scene together. We fit. We mesh.” He shook his head sadly. “Why would I ever want to go looking anywhere else when you’re everything I need? Shite!” he cursed as his lower lip began to tremble. He moved away from me, across the room to his window. He stood before it, his back to me, his head down. “I’m not normal.”

“Oh, James.” I stood and approached him.

“I can’t like anyone else, did you know that? I can’t be attracted to anyone else, but you. How fucked up is that?”

“You are not fucked up.”

“You were able to want Robert.” He turned to me. His eyes were glistening. “You wanted him to -”

I held up my hands to stop him. “But I didn’t let him, did I? Instead I went to you. I chose to go to your room and have it off with you and get naked with you and sleep in _your_ arms all night. Instead of him.”

“But you did want him, though. Didn’t you?”

I shrugged. “I guess. I dunno. The attention was certainly nice. But you don’t know for sure you can’t like anyone else. And, come on, it isn’t even possible that you can’t. Of _course_ you can be attracted to other people.”

He didn’t look convinced. “What am I going to do?” he whispered. “I mean, when you finally meet someone and run off and get married, I’ll just be left to … search for another you.”

“I’m not leaving you,” I said sincerely.

“You could have a normal life with someone else.”

“Oh, please.” I stepped closer, took him by his waist again. “Who the fuck wants to be normal?” And I kissed him hard, with everything I had, all the desire I’d been trying to stifle and ignore that day, pushing down the feelings of guilt and shame that nagged at me instead.

And as I tasted him, smelled him, felt him against me, it became impossible to deny it any longer: touching him, putting my mouth on him, had always felt completely natural. The memory of grown-up hands pulling us away from each other, of authoritative voices insisting that boys, brothers, don’t do that, was what had convinced me that my most basic instincts and needs were somehow perverted. That was what had made me push my brother away. And suddenly, I was very angry about it.

I pulled my lips away achingly slowly, letting my tongue linger inside his mouth. When I looked at him, his eyes were still closed, his mouth hanging open just slightly. After a few seconds, he opened his eyes, too, and blinked at me dazedly.

“Wow,” he whispered. I gave him a loving smile and reached up to caress his face. He kissed me again, this time just a quick, but passionately firm pressing of lips. Then he did it again and again and again, until we were both breathing rather hard and I was kissing my way down to his neck.

“I want you now,” he whispered, and there was a desperation in his voice I’d never heard before. A desperation that I felt, too.

“We can’t do this here,” I said. He ignored that, continued to kiss me. He grabbed onto my shirt, turned us both around so my back was to the window, and began pulling me back to the couch.

“James, no,” I protested into his mouth, but I couldn’t seem to bring myself to stop him from pulling me down onto the couch with him, on top of him. It all happened so fast. One moment I was telling him to stop, the next I was dry humping him on the couch. His tongue slid up into my mouth again. I sucked it, then opened up wide and let my tongue roll around with his. He groaned hungrily as he clawed my back beneath my shirt. I covered his mouth with mine and growled rather uncharacteristically as my desire welled up inside me again, came bubbling to the surface like boiling lava.

And, confirming my fears as though prompted by my own thoughts, someone knocked on our door. We moved instantly away from each other, him stepping back and straightening his hair and shirt, while I, too, pulled at my clothing and went to answer the door.

It was Robert.

“Hey,” he said. “Just wanted to see if you two were joining us tonight.”

“Er, no. We’re kinda tired,” I said. “We’re just gonna head back to the hotel.”

“Ah,” he nodded, peering into the room at James. I looked back at him as well. He was standing by the window, hugging himself, trying to look casual. He gave Robert a tight-lipped smile and a little wave, then went back to preparing himself to leave.

“I see,” he went on. I didn’t care for the smirk on his face. “Well, you guys have a nice night then. See you tomorrow morning.” He winked at me and turned to walk away.

“Er, wait,” I stopped him. I slipped out of the room and close the door behind me, holding a ‘one-sec’ finger up to James as I did. “I just wanted to apologise again for the other night,” I said in a low voice.

“Oh, forget about it, mate. It’s all right.”

“Well, I figured it might be, but I still feel bad. Did I … lead you on?”

He gave me a cheeky little grin, looking at me sidelong. “Course you did, you hot little minx.”

I chuckled despite myself. “Shut up, Rob. I’m trying to be serious.”

“No, you didn’t,” he said more seriously. “I mean, I felt you might be receptive, but I could also sense your uncertainty. It’s fine, Ol. Stop stressing.”

“Well, I still feel odd about it.”

There was an awkward silence then as I stood there trying to come up with something to fill it and he stared at me with his signature roguish grin, his thick eyebrows speaking more loudly than anything he’d said thus far.

“Why are you giving me that look?” I had to ask.

He shrugged. “It’s cute how you try to hide it. Both of you.”

And I knew what he meant. There was no use pretending he didn’t know. I looked away, down at the floor.

“There have been times, you know, when I sort of wished I had a twin.”

I looked back up at that, looked closely at his face.

“For various reasons,” he added. “The connection between you, you know, it’s … it’s really something.” He nodded, still grinning softly, rubbing his chin as he glanced downward. “Well, I should be off. The guys are waiting. You two have fun tonight,” he said as he backed away and winked again. He then turned around and went on his way. Once again I found myself staring after him, wondering exactly how much he knew. I decided it was safest to assume he knew everything, could just tell somehow, and just try not to be so obvious in the future.

I went back inside James’s dressing room and found him back at the window, gazing out. He turned his face to look at me over his shoulder, his hair framing his face. He smiled, and for a moment I felt like I was being greeted by my lover. For a moment, it wasn’t my brother standing there. For a moment, I could see our future in his eyes, the two of us, some quaint little house somewhere, walking the dogs, preparing meals, waking up each day.

Together.

“Can we do this?” I asked still staring at him. And somehow he knew exactly what I was talking about.

“We already have been,” he said kindly. “We’ve been together forever.”

He was right, of course. But it all felt different. When I approached him and took him in my arms and kissed him again, it felt more real somehow. As we chatted casually on our way back to the hotel, it felt to me that our couple-ness was more obvious to everyone who saw us. When we ordered room service, I felt as though the man who’d delivered it to us could tell this was more than just brothers having dinner together. And when I lay down with him again, something about it felt very final, as though after this there’d be no backing out. Not again. Every time I put my lips to his skin, I was making a promise. Every time I looked into his eyes, I was professing something undying. And when I put my fingers inside him, and then finally my cock, I was taking responsibility. For his heart. Once and for all. I had breached him, entered his most private place. And he’d trusted me enough to let me in, to spread himself open, relinquish a bit of control and allow me entry. After that, cold feet just weren’t an option anymore.

He was preparing my body for himself, hovering above me, his fingers buried deep inside me, wiggling about and stroking at my sensitive places, making me groan and squirm as I gazed up into his warm eyes. He suddenly got a look on his face, a little smile pulling at his mouth. His eyes darted over to the mirrored closet doors just across the room, then back down to my face.

I let him lead me over there, let him position me, facing the doors, bracing myself with one hand against the wall on one side of the closet, bent forward a bit, feet wide apart, my bottom sticking out. I watched his reflection in the mirror. He took his place behind me, took hold of himself and watched as he began to push against me.

“Oh, god,” I whimpered as the head of his prick began to force its way in. He cooed at me and rubbed my back with his free hand, pushing in further. I shut my eyes tightly and groaned plaintively as I let him in. I was determined to let him have me. I wanted it more than anything.

As he began to fuck me, his arm snaked around my lower torso, his hand resting on my stomach just below my belly button, almost cradling me there as he pushed and pulled, in and out, again and again. It was pleasure like I’d never felt. It was that same perfect completeness I’d experienced when I’d been inside him, only I was receiving this time. And I could feel it: every thrust was him pledging to be good to me. And every time I pushed back against him, helping him drive in further, I was pledging to give myself completely and always.

I was practically growling near the end, teeth clenched, my groans deep, rumbling up from my throat. I suddenly felt his heat near my left ear and I opened my eyes. There we were in the mirror, faces side-by-side and nearly identical, aglow with the blush of arousal and the soft lamplight reflecting off the sweat sheen that covered us both, our mouths open slightly, both of us panting like dogs, fucking like dogs.

“Always,” he breathed. “You and me … just like this.” And he wrapped his arms round my chest, overtop of my upper arms, pinning them to my sides and holding me snugly against himself. “Forever, yeah?”

I nodded at our reflection and whispered back, “Yeah. Always.” I reached up as best I could to touch his forearms, grip them, feeling the intensity mounting as his climax drew nearer, hearing his breaths coming faster and harder. I threw my head back and moaned loudly, a strangled-sounding cry, as he fucked me roughly. And when he spoke again, his voice was soft and calm despite his impending orgasm.

“Shhh, hush, baby,” he whispered, one of his hands sliding up my damp chest to wrap lightly round my throat, gripping there almost protectively. “Here it comes. All for you.”

He jerked hard, began twitching against my back, his arm’s grip on my body tightening, his hand holding my throat more firmly, not enough to choke me, but enough to tell me who was in control just then. And I swear I felt his orgasm all throughout my body. I stood there, writhing in his arms, face pointed upward, back arched, feeling him pumping his warm fluid into my body, feeling him bite down where my shoulder met my neck and begin to suck there.

When he finally stopped coming, I know we only stood there catching our breath for a minute or so, but it felt longer. I felt him go limp inside me, his grip on me loosening, him sagging against my back, his hand finally sliding from my neck. It was I who was able to move first, carefully pulling my hips forward, until he fell out of me, and turning to face him, to help support his spent body and guide him back to the bed. There was no more talking that night. We were both exhausted. I didn’t even bother spending the energy to shut the lamp off. We fell asleep with the light on, in each other’s arms.

 

* * *

I could hear him calling my name faintly, weakly. I frowned, casting about, looking for him. I couldn’t see him.

It only took a moment to realise I was dreaming, that James was lying right next to me and really was moaning my name in his sleep. My eyes popped open. The lamp next to the bed was still on. Outside the window, the sky was growing paler. I finally shut the lamp off, and the room was plunged into the soft, bluish light of dawn.

He moaned my name again and I looked over at him. He was frowning in his sleep. I moved closer and pulled him against me, his body hot and damp beneath the covers. The movement was enough to wake him up. He blinked groggily at me.

“You’re here,” he whispered.

“Yeah. Where else would I be?”

“I dunno. Back in your own suite, maybe … I dreamed I woke up and you were gone.”

I shook my head. “I’m not leaving you,” I assured him, nuzzling his forehead.

He snuggled in more tightly. “It’s real this time, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. It is. I felt it last night. I felt it before we’d even left your dressing room yesterday.” I pulled back to look solemnly into his eyes. “I’m in this with you. For good.”

And we were kissing deeply and making love again. I just barely managed to tear myself away for the second it took to shut the bloody alarm clock off when the beeping finally started up. We were a bit late for work that morning. We missed breakfast. We didn’t care.

“Do you feel like people can tell?” he asked as we walked away from one of the sets later that day.

“Yeah. Some of them can. Some of them know exactly what’s going on.”

He glanced at me. “You mean like Emma?”

“And Robert. He knows. I didn’t tell him. He can just tell. Don’t worry, he won’t say anything. And Emma, well,” I chuckled. “She barely ever spoke to us before. I wouldn’t plan on inviting her to our wedding or anything.”

“Ahh, our wedding,” he said with a grin, playing along. “Mike’ll want to be there, though.”

“Are you kidding? Mike’ll want to join us on our honeymoon.”

He laughed out loud at that as we stopped in front of my dressing room. He turned to face me and look into my eyes. “So, this is it, huh? You and me? In it for the long haul?”

I nodded. “Long as you’ll have me.”

“Think I’ll hold onto you for a while,” he said shyly, looking down at his feet.

I glanced up and down the hall. We were alone, so I went for it. I stepped right up to him, turned his face back up by his chin and planted a firm kiss on his mouth. When I opened my eyes and stepped back again, I almost expected to see someone standing at the end of the hall, gaping at us. No one was there, and by the softly contented look on James’s face, I knew there was no one behind me at the other end either.

“I’ll see you later then,” he said softly, his tone intimate and just for me. I nodded, watched him turn and head for his own dressing room. He turned into it, glancing back at me just before he disappeared inside.

I turned to my door, a soft, secret smile on my face. I was about to enter when I heard someone clear his throat off to my left. My face snapped around, eyes focusing on that end of the hall. He was peering round a corner, one eyebrow arched above his glasses, a knowing grin on his kindly face. My heart stopped for just a moment before I remembered that he’d already seen us kiss the day before.

His face disappeared and I heard whistling start up and grow fainter as he walked away, leaving me alone in the hall again. _Glad you enjoyed the show, Mr. Newell,_ I thought with a smile and stepped into my dressing room.

END 


End file.
